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I think we’re all a little bit fire aka the story of the three people I convinced to get tattoos in my basement and how I learned to grow
I. She lets you sleep in her lap in a Chelsea Starbucks around noon. You both are tired travelers like butterflies fresh from the cocoon. Your wings are still wet.
We broke up two months ago Had a fight haven't talked since But I swear I can still feel your kiss Like it's tattooed on my lips.